Lost in a Nightmare
by jaded-views
Summary: What do you do when you find yourself lost in a nightmare but don't want to wake up?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any claim to the Harry Potter universe. This fic was written for fun not profit.

Author's note: This is EVIL Harry. If you don't like, don't read. Other than the fact that this is my first fic and not beta'd, do continue.

**words**-spoken in the language of the snakes.

Lost in a Nightmare

Chapter One

I watch him walk about the chamber and I can't help the way my eyes travel down his uncovered torso, back muscles-which were never there before the war- bunching and rippling. Merlin, how I hate him.

I hate what has become of me, what I could have bee if it weren't for him. I was destined for great things, I once had everything at my fingertips but now all I have is this stupid collar around my ankle. This is what I've become, a slave to a dark wizard and no, I not referring to Voldemort. That pussy was taken care of two years ago. I'm taking about none other than Harry Fucking Potter.

To ever think that Harry Potter, the Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, would turn out to be our new Dark Lord was almost blasphemy.

The irony kills me.

And to think no one saw it coming; no one, but me. I watched and I knew. It was as obvious to see as the Weasley's were poor, if you took the time to look closely at the once thought boy hero. No one cared what happened to him as long as he did what he was meant to do.

But now they care. Now we all care as we are forced to live as slaves to this powerful being; out of one Devils Snare and into another.

I often go back in my mind to that fateful day, the day that changed the desired outcome of the final battle to that of a nightmare, the day that everything went to hell…

The stench of sweat, blood and death coated the air making it almost unbearable to breath. The bodies of Death Eaters and the Order alike littered the grounds of the graveyard and as I looked on, I knew that at this point the fate of the word could go either way.

Holding my side where MacNair managed to crack a few ribs before I killed the bastered, I watched the scene before me. The Dark Lord and Potter were at a stand off and I don't know who I would rather see win at this stage in the war.

We all know the story of the boy who is destined to save the wizarding world from an evil madman, but what most didn't realize is that one day it would need protection from our so called "savior". But I knew, I watched as this once spirited boy lost everything: his innocence, his friends and pieces of his soul.

I watched as one by one Potter's comrades fell at the hands of the Dark Lord and his followers, some I myself am responsible: Dumbledore, Granger, Moody, that Tonks girl, the werewolf, Weasleys, Professor MacGonagall, classmates …

And with every life taken and every death caused by Potter's own hands, I saw the little traces of light disappear. Only one thing kept Potter going, one light that never fades out. One person in the world that could keep Potter on the side of light which he so closely borderlines darkness and that is-

_//CRACK!//_

What…?

"My Lord!"

Father!

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the graveyard and thrust what appeared to be a body to the Dark Lord. It was hardly recognizable, covered in dirt grim and blood but under all that I thought I saw…

No, it couldn't be.

"Ron!!"

Fuck!

It was the Weasel himself, or rather, what was left of him. He could barely be classified as alive. If it wasn't for the ragged coughs which spurted too much blood to be overlooked, I would have thought him dead.

"Well, well Harry it seems that we find ourselves in a little predicament once again," crooned the Dark Lord and I had to stifle the urge to throw up, though nothing was in my stomach.

"Let him go you sick fuck." Potter's voice was of barely leashed rage and I could feel his energy, SEE his magic as it crackled about us. Oh yes, this fight was over. I knew it, Father knew it, and even the Dark Lord knew it. That's why he had the Weasel. To bargain.

"Now Harry, one would think you would know exactly what is going to happen, but it seems even I give you too much credit." They circled each other, the Dark Lord dragging Weasley's broken body with him.

Remember what light I talked about, the one thing in the world holding Harry Potter anchored to the side of light? Well I'm looking at it. Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's right hand man and best friend, tortured and used as bait to give the Dark Lord the escape he desperately needs.

Even I know that cannot be let to happen. If he was not destroyed know, there will be no hope of doing so in the future. But one cannot tell the outcome any more, because if there ever was a person who could get Potter to give up this war it was the Weasley boy.

Potter's face contorted into an anguished expression as he finally caught on to what was happening; he had to choose between the lives of thousands of people (wizard and muggle alike), or the life of one boy. The life of one insignificant boy to you and me but everything in the world to Potter. Life can be a real bitch at times.

"No," I rasp, trying to say something over the burning agony in my side. What was I about to say I don't know and as I tried to shuffle forward strong arms wrap around me and held on.

"Watch Draco," my Father whispered into my ear. He startled me because I had forgotten he was there, a stupid mistake that had never happened before but there were bigger things happening now. "Watch how our Lord defeats this pest and put Potter in his rightful place. It's over now."

_"_**What do you say Harry?"** His voice floats into the silence. **"Are you willing to sacrifice your friend for people who couldn't care whether you live or die? Will you kill your last surviving friend to get to me?"** The voice hardens. **"Drop your wand!"**

I don't understand what was said but even a Hufflepuff could figure it out

It's over now.

"Don't…"

It takes me a while to realize that the ragged rasp came from the Weasel.

"Ron." It's almost a sob that burst forth from Potter's mouth.

"Don't…never forgive…never…kill…," his voice was cut off by a massive coughing fit that brought up more blood than I thought was possible. His head lolled to the side as Voldemort's wand dig into it but from my vantage I could see that his and Potter's eyes were locked.

And I understood. I knew what it was that Weasley was asking. I never thought that I could hate him any more than I already did, but in that instant I wanted to kill him myself for what he proposed.

If Potter cast the killing curse, there would be no way that Weasley could escape it. He was asking Potter to kill him.

Potter looked like he was fighting some invisible force the way he began to shake. "I-I can't Ron. Please just-"

"No!" The power behind that one word had surprised me; even the Dark Lord seemed a bit shocked. He looked between the two, puzzled.

"Never… forgive, never…"

And this is where it happened, where all that was good and pureness in Potter disappeared. His eyes closed for a fraction of a second then flew open, gaze harder than steel. His magical aura grew darker as he raised his arm, palm out, wand falling unnoticed to the blood soaked ground.

"Wise decision Harry," Voldemort said triumphantly. "I knew-"

_//"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"//_

He didn't see it coming. Hell, I didn't see it coming.

The most powerful killing curse I ever saw burst from the _palm _of Potter's hand. The beam cut through Weasley's chest, through Voldemort's to at least five feet behind him. I watched in fascinated horror as the Weasel's body falls face forward to the ground but the Dark Lord's body stiffened.

The beam was pushing something out of him, something black and wiggling and screaming. Then there was to be a back lash of all that energy. The black essence surged forward toward Potter as Voldemort's body exploded. The surge of energy from the explosion threw us clear off our feet and we landed a few feet away, Father's head bouncing off a headstone and his body cushioning my fall.

Dazed but otherwise unhurt, I stand up, grimacing as thirty knives stab at my sides. As the black mist released from Voldemort cleared I could see a lone figure standing still as a statue among a sea of bodies. If it weren't for the massive injury to my ribs I would have laughed. It was almost poetic.

He did it.

Potter did it.

I stumbled over to him hardly daring to believe what I saw. It was over, the Dark Lord was dead.

Potter, a seventeen year old wizard just defeated the most powerful wizard of our time without a wand. I saw it with my own eyes but I sill can't believe it.

Potter won.

As I drew closer I realized that he was staring at the body of Weasley, not moving, not making a sound.

"Potter?"

Nothing.

I should just leave him. Who cares about him now? He did what we all wanted. The Dark Lord is no more and that's all that matters.

"Hey, Potter!

About 30 seconds passed before he looked up. When he did and those avada kedavra tinted eyes met and locked with my own, I wished they hadn't.

A chill ran down my spine.

_"Harry…"_

TBC???


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I am just making this up as I go along. Right now there is no set plot but one will come to me as I continue, so please bear with me. Now, on with the fic.

Ministry Crisis

"Malfoy!"

The harsh bark brought me out of my day dreaming and I found myself the subject of a glare of a fully clothed and highly annoyed Potter. Shit, it seems he had been trying to get my attention for a while now. That wasn't good since he shouldn't have to try at all; I'm actually supposed to be his lap dog jumping at the first glance he throws my way.

If I had my wand I would hex him.

But I'm not stupid. I don't let even a flicker of the anger and fear I feel for him show: the Malfoy mask perfectly in place. It was never a good thing to upset him. Over the years I've realized this the hard way. At first it was all defiance and retaliation from me but I've learnt.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not a passive, not in the least. And he isn't a vicious fuck who tortures everyone just because it's Wednesday and it gives him sadistic pleasure, but when he does…lets just say he leaves you a reminder to never screw up like that again. Because if Harry Potter said, jump you better ask 'how high'. And if Harry Potter said he wants to shit, you better ask which way he'd like his arse wiped.

The evil git.

And ALWAYS after thinking of that day I get a bit defiant, as if contradicting that which fate have befall upon me. Today was no exception. But I tried to curb the habit. It really isn't wise to upset him especially as we have been doing fine these past days, which is why I'll respond in a dignified manner worthy of my station as the Malfoy heir.

"What?!" I snapped.

…Okay, _maybe _not the best response.

I had to quell the urge to step back as he crossed the room in three long strides. His arm snaked out, wrapping around my neck to pull my resisting body closer into his unwanted embrace. With his body so close, I could smell the soap he used, peppermint and musk; he smelled…

Wait what the fuck am I thinking?

You want to know something funny? He isn't all that intimidating per se. A little heavier and muscular than my lean form obviously, but we were about the same in height (when did that happen?). But it was his power…

I trembled; and I hated him for it.

"Watch yourself Malfoy."

Go fuck yourself Potter.

I cocked my slightly, trying to calm my temper a bit. It seems as if I probably could get away with a little bit of arrogance today seeing that I haven't been punched in the face for my cheek beyond a half arsed threat. I tested my theory.

"Well now Potter, it's kind of hard to do that since you are by no means a mirror and I already know how gorgeous I am, so I see no reason to 'watch' myself." I stupid comeback but at the moment wit has left me.

"You're pushing it," he all but growled.

"What? What will you do? Spank me?" I sneered.

The arm around my throat tightened to the point where all I could see were blurred spots but that didn't stop me. Merlin, I really should shut up but…

"If you don't like my company Potter, there is always that tramp over on the next wing that's always up to servicing you." There was no bitterness in my voice when I said that.

The hand that backhands me came as no surprise; I had taken it one step too far. My head snaps to the right from the force of the blow, my eyes going cross and for a split second all I could see was black. I feel the blood seeping out of the wound in my lip and suddenly I'm jerked forward, a warm tongue lapping at the blood running down the side of my jaw. His mouth sucking on the bruise, almost soothing the wound except for the little nip I get.

"Don't make me angry with you Malfoy," he hissed; his hot breath against my ear, electricity run from his touch onto my body making me shiver at the barely veiled anger in his tone. My body arched a little seeking more of the blissful sensations that it knows this person can create in me.

Another reason why I hate him; this power he has to make my body respond to his touch whether made in anger or a purposeful seduction. The control he has gets to me all the time and I can't help but want him more everyday even though I wish to see him dead.

He walks forward, forcing me against the wall; his body aligned with mine, chest to chest, cock to cock. And it galls me to admit this but Potter is one well developed motherfucker. And he knows how to use it, building pleasure until I'll do almost anything to cum.

He pushes a leg between mine and presses upwards, the pressure making me hard no matter how much I don't want to be. The heat from our bodies and the anticipation of what might come making me tremble

He feels the tremor that flows through me and he smirks against my cheek, letting me know that he understands the conflict going on between my body and my pride and that my body has won as it always does. He gave a little chuckle as he pushed away from me and made his way back across the room.

"I have business at the ministry," he said; as if he didn't just slap the shit out of me a minute ago and made me crave his cock the next. Ministry business? I can't help but give a quite snort. More likely there is another uprising of wizards trying to take down 'the all powerful Potty'. The only reason there is still a Ministry is to create some kind of feeling of safety among the people. As for the Ministry itself, their too busy trying to stay on Potter's good side and too damn scared of him to help in any uprising against him.

He takes up the coat from the chair by the door and puts it on to ward off the November chill. "Behave yourself Malfoy. I really am not going to be in the mood to deal with you if I hear you screwed up in any way." I watch him finish with the buttons and he turned one last time to stare me dead in the eye, "Remember what I said." And with that he was gone in a swirl of billowing black robes that would have put Snape to shame.

Dramatic bastard.

And yes he would know what I've been up to, the 'guards' he had station everywhere reported back to him the slightest fart anyone makes in the damned place.

Sighing, I sat on the bed left leg propped up against the post and I felt the heavy weight of the collar around my ankle shift. Pulling back the leg of my pants I stared at the silver metal as I oft do.

It's simply designed. No intricate carvings of snitches in flight or dragons battling or any such crap; a simple solitary snake wove around my ankle. It was not put there for decorating purposes (though I suspect possession did have something to do with it). No, with this seemingly simple device, if ever I was away from this place for more than 24 hours had the power to…well Potter never really said anything but the underlining threat has kept me from testing its potential.

After about an hour of thinking about how foul a git Potter is, the isolation got to me. If I didn't get out of the fucking room I swear I'd kill myself! It was just a matter of out smarting the 'guards' outside the door and that wouldn't be too hard. Especially that huge motherfucker called Ace while huge and dumb looking, he did seem to posses half a brain unlike the rest.

I knew this place inside out; all of its secrets and all its passages that if I wanted to take a piss without it being reported back to King Potty, then by Merlin that's what I would do.

But right now all I wanted was to get out of this fucking room. And prisoner or no, no piece of shit guard looking favors with Potter is going to keep me in here. After all, this is Malfoy Manor.

Yes surprise, surprise; Harry Potter chose one of Voldemorts bases as his very own. Well not much of a shock when you think about it, where else could he go if he wanted to be safe from other wizards trying to kill him while he ruled the fucking world? Plus I think because it was a base of Voldemort, that's why he chose it.

Accessing the passage hidden behind the cabinet in the room by whispering the incantation, I stepped through the now corporeal cabinet and into the tunnel. Being careful to not set off the many wards in these passageways, I silently creped along the way to the West Wing corridor where I knew hardly anyone goes.

Walking for quite a good while, I finally came upon the connecting Greek rug hanging in front of a wall which I knew on the other side, was the top of the stair well of the West Wing.

Passing through the seemingly solid object as only one with Malfoy blood can do, I came out the other side brushing dust and spider webs from my person. Slightly disgusted by the filth but too satisfied with myself to complain much, I didn't here the person approach until they we practically on top of me.

"Well, well. If it isn't everyone's favorite bouncing ferret."

I stiffened and can't (and don't want to) help the sneer that automatically contorts my face at the voice.

"Weaselete."

**FLASHBACK**

The sound of pained grunts fills the air and the spell that had us locked together in each other's eyes is broken. Giving myself a mental shake, I looked around to see …someone limping towards us; left arm hanging useless at the side and covered in blood.

Potter seemed frozen in place and for the life of me I can't seem to figure out why. My first thought was that this was one of the stray Death Eaters that had got away come back to avenge the death of their Lord. But as the person got closer I could swear that I saw a shock of red…

That's not possible.

"Harry is it over?" The voice, full of understandable hatred asks. "Is he dead?" It was almost a demand.

Potter, staring for a moment looking like he hadn't heard, finally gave one jerk of the head.

But unfortunately it is. The fucking Weasely girl is standing before us with a half smile on her face and satisfaction burning in her eyes. I thought she was dead, since the last time I saw her she was spread eagled on a table with my Father between her legs, and a horde of other Death Eaters lining up for a taste of 'Potters whore'. Speaking of which…

I glanced back to where Father was…but he was gone

**END OF FLASHBACK**

Ok I know you all are waiting for slashy goodness

But that won't be here until anther chapter…or two (maybe three).

And if you have any tips to offer on my writing, I'm listening.

REVIEW!


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